Saves Nine
by Estaog
Summary: [HIATUS]After his defeat of Voldemort, Harry Potter is asked to travel to the past and prevent the Dark Lord from rising to power. Though the method of travel allows for changes in history without paradox, Voldemort can't be killed before October 31, 1981
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Saves Nine**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

****

August 5, 1975 

The stillness of the night air was broken as a strong wind swept it's way through the clearing. As the seconds passed, the wind grew stronger, picking up debris from the forest floor. Several moments later it had become a veritable maelstrom of dust and dead grass. As the phenomenon reached its peak, the air suddenly stilled once more, leaving the chaff to fall to the ground. The wind had gone as quickly as it had came, but it left behind a lone figure standing in the center of the clearing.

As the last blade of grass fluttered to the forest floor again, the man who had appeared opened his eyes and glanced around the clearing, searching for any potential threats. Finding none, he raised his right arm and flicked his wrist, catching a thin stick as it shot from his sleeve.

"_Tempus_." Numbers quickly formed in the air, displaying the current time and date: _2:43 AM, 5th August, 1975_. Seeing this, the man smirked and reached into the folds of his cloak with his free hand to withdraw a small spherical object. With a tap of his wand, the black object pulsed with a red glow before he tossed it to the ground. He opened the hand holding his wand, allowing it to slip back into his sleeve and reached up, pulling the hood of the cloak over his head. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he disappeared from the clearing with a soft _pop_. Seconds later, the small globe he had left behind erupted in a storm of red lightening. When the lightening ceased, the clearing was left completely untouched, the only evidence of anything happening was the an odd heavy feeling in the air.

* * *

The small forest clearing that was witness to the lone man's appearance and subsequent disappearance in the early hours of the morning was now host to a small army of wizards and witches in the dark blue robes of Ministry Hit Wizards. Interspersed amongst them were several wearing robes of a dark red, identifying them as Aurors. As people rushed back and forth through the clearing, the newly arrived Senior Auror Alastor Moody observed the scene with growing disgust. He stood at the edge of the clearing for several minutes, failing to spot any semblance of order or organization, before raising his wand to the sky and shooting off a stream of sparks, producing a loud bang. All activity in the clearing stopped as they all turned to look at the source of the noise. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say I was watching a bunch of headless chickens," growled Moody. "Running around like idiots isn't going to solve anything. I want a report on the situation before you lot do anything else."

Alastor Moody was an intimidating man with no tolerance for wasting time, so it was no wonder that several wizards tripped over each other in an effort to reach him so they could explain the situation. The first to reach him, one of the Hit Wizards, stood ramrod straight, staring over Moody's head, not daring to look him in the eye. After a few moments of the man trying to build up the courage to speak, Moody let loose a small growl of frustration. He physically shoved the taller man to the side and stomped past him.

"You," he ordered, pointing to a nearby Hit Witch. "Explain. Now."

The witch immediately straightened and stood at attention.

"Several hours ago the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes noted a magical signature on par with high-level ritual magics in an unwarded location. Moments afterward, the magical output blossomed and promptly vanished. It was reported to our department and several squads were sent to investigate. When we arrived, the clearing was empty with no evidence of any sort of ritual magic present."

Moody eyed her for a few seconds.

"Several hours ago, eh?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir. Shortly before three this morning," was the response.

"And your squads arrived when?" Moody eyed the sun well above the horizon.

"Half past seven, sir."

Moody's eyes snapped back to her.

"So you're telling me," the Senior Auror started, "that you suspect that someone preformed a high-level ritual in this clearing, and it took you over four hours to respond?" Seeing the Hit Witch open her mouth to respond, Moody cut her off. "Don't bother answering."

Moody turned and surveyed the people in the clearing once more.

"You, take ten others and search everything within five kilometers of this clearing." he ordered, pointing at one of the Aurors. "Everyone else leave. We won't find anything in this clearing." He turned back to the Hit Witch he'd questioned. "You stay with me, girl."

The 'girl' scowled at the name. No one in the clearing moved.

"Well, what's everyone waiting for? Move!" Several seconds and _cracks_ later, Moody was alone with the Hit Witch in the clearing. "Pay attention, girl, you might learn something."

The scowl deepened.

"My name's not girl. It's Dorea Vane." Being called 'girl' obviously offended her.

"I don't care if you're bloody Morgan le Fey, shut up and you might learn a thing or two." Dorea gaped, but Moody ignored her. "You feel that heaviness in the air?" He didn't bother to wait for her response. "It's an extremely artificial feeling, which means one thing: no amount of surveying will reveal whatever ritual was preformed here."

Dorea obviously didn't understand.

"You can tell that just standing here? It took us an hour to realize we weren't going to get any recognizable ritual signature."

"Of course, girl. Powerful rituals saturate the air with magic. The more powerful the ritual, the more magic it releases, the stronger the feeling in the air. Light rituals tend to make the air seem lighter. Typically the magic saturating the area makes you lightheaded and contented. Dark rituals make the air seem heavier and the immediate area exudes a sense of wrong."

"So you know it was some sort of dark ritual, just not the specific ritual?"

"I don't even know that much. The air here doesn't feel wrong or evil, just unnatural. Heavy air and unnatural feeling means someone artificially supersaturated this area with magic." Moody walked to the center of the clearing and bent down to dig something out of the dirt. He picked up the small sphere and tossed it to Dorea. "And they used this to do it."

Dorea caught the sphere and examined it. She couldn't tell what it was save for a small black ball made of some sort of stone with runes carved into its otherwise smooth surface. Moody either saw her look of confusion or didn't expect her to know what it was, because he began explaining.

"The runes on that stone store magic until it's activated. Something like that would take several people a few weeks to charge with their magical energy. Then you do whatever ritual or spell you want to do, activate that thing, and it releases all the stored magic at once. That magic pouring out and saturating the area destroys any trace of all magical signatures in the area. The ritual was the first signature Accidents and Catastrophes picked up, and the second surge was this sucker activating. Whoever probably apparated in, preformed the ritual, dropped this, and disapparated out. With the Ministry's pathetic response time –" at this, Dorea glared at Moody, who continued on, unfazed "– and the magical saturation destroying any apparition signatures, they didn't have to worry about being caught."

* * *

Blissfully unaware of the excitement his arrival had caused, the man who had appeared in the clearing that morning was just waking up in the room he had taken for the night. Preparing for the day ahead, he dressed himself in a pair of dark corduroys and a black collared shirt that would look more at home in the muggle world than the magical. He stood in front of a full length mirror and brushed the fringe of his black hair away from his forehead to examine a faint scar shaped like a bolt of lightening, a souvenir from his life as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. It had, over the year since his defeat of Voldemort, faded to the point it was virtually invisible unless you were looking for it. He turned away from the mirror after a few moments and picked up the traveling cloak from where he had hung it over the back of a chair before going to sleep. The cloak was a dark gray – nearly black – and made of thick material with several comfort charms woven into it. Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he clasped it at the neck and looked around once before exiting the room. 

He descended the stairs to the ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way over to the bar and sat in front of Tom, the barkeep. Tom, Harry could see, didn't change much between now and when he'd first seen the man sixteen years in the future.

"Got in late last night, you did," commented Tom once he placed the face sitting in front of him. "I'm surprised you're up at this hour, Mr...?"

Harry gave him a smile.

"Schwarz. Atrus Schwarz." He paused a moment. "Unfortunately I have business to conduct today. If it weren't so pressing, I would have found somewhere to stay the night last night and continued on my way here this morning."

"Bad luck, that," the barkeep replied, continuing to polish the glass in his hands. He eyed the clock hanging on the opposite wall. "You care for anything?"

"If you could direct me to somewhere I could get a paper, that'd be great."

Tom reached under the bar and pulled out a copy of _The Daily Prophet_, handing sliding it across the bar. "That'll be four knuts."

Harry thanked him and set four bronze coins down on the bar for the paper before getting up and moving to a table in the back corner of the bar. Harry spent the next ten minutes scanning through the wizarding news to familiarize himself with recent events. Folding the paper up, he slid it into the folds of his cloak and stood. He made his way to the rear exit, giving Tom a short wave, and joined the steady flow of people moving between the floo and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

As he entered the Alley, he noticed that it was crowded, which wasn't too surprising considering the date; Hogwarts term started in less than a month, so families would definitely be shopping for their school things. Reflecting on how little London's wizarding hub had changed, he made his way to Gringotts, pulling his hood up as he walked. Entering the doors of the large white marble building without sparing a glance to either the goblin guards or the binding poem written above the entrance, he ignored the lines in front of the tellers and walked directly up to one of the free goblins. Harry paid no attention to the protests of those he'd cut in front of and reached into his cloak to pull out an intricately carved medallion. The goblin, who'd been about to signal for a guard to 'escort' him out of the bank, instead stared when Harry flashed the medallion.

When the goblin came to his senses, he hurriedly placed a sign saying the station was closed and gestured for Harry to follow him. The teller led him to a set of ornately decorated double doors on the wall opposite the one leading to the vaults. After a rapid exchange of Gobbledegook between the teller and one of the heavily armed and armored goblins guarding the door, the guard eyed Harry for a second before turning and knocking solidly on the door. Almost immediately the door was opened enough for another goblin to stick his head. There was another exchange between the teller and this new goblin which involved several gestures in Harry's direction. The goblin with his head out the door turned his attention to Harry and studied him. Harry must have passed whatever inspection the goblin was giving him, because as soon as the goblin's head disappeared behind the door, it was opened fully and the goblin behind it motioned for Harry to follow. Harry did so and left the teller behind. The doors closed after him as he trailed behind the goblin.

Eventually the goblin led Harry to a small conference room with white marble floors and a table in the middle which seemed to be carved out of a single piece of black marble. The chairs surrounding the circular table were high-backed and made of the same material as the table with white cushions on the seats. As the goblin who had led him here made to leave the room, it turned back to Harry.

"If you would make yourself comfortable, I'll send for someone who can speak with you on the matter you requested." With that, the goblin left the room and closed the door behind him.

Harry sat one of the chairs facing the door and marveled and the wonders of magic; a marble chair had no right being comfortable, yet there he was sitting on one every bit as relaxing as a plush chair. The conference room was obviously for Gringotts' more respected clientèle, as he'd been in several of these rooms in the past – future?– none of which were as nice as this one. Respected meaning, of course, non-bigoted and extremely wealthy, which wasn't a very large group.

Half-an-hour later found Harry leaning back in his chair absentmindedly twirling his wand around his fingers. The door opening drew Harry's attention and he re-holstered his wand, though preparing to draw it again should he need to do so. The man who entered was someone whom Harry recognized instantly. He had to bite his cheek to prevent a chuckle. The man was vampire Harry had inadvertently killed, though at this point he was only a familiar – a mortal in servitude to vampires to conduct their affairs during daylight. The man sat in a chair opposite Harry and the table shrunk to a more appropriate size, the vacant chairs vanishing. He regarded Harry for several moment. Harry calmly kept eye contact as the familiar sitting across the table extended a sloppy legilimency probe that had no chance of penetrating his mental defenses.

"My Masters were informed that you posses a symbol of our Clan, yet I do not recognize you _and_ you walk under the harsh light of the unforgiving sun with no apparent discomfort."

Harry smirked and retrieved the medallion from within his cloak, laying it upon the table between them. Such identifying emblems were only allowed to vampires belonging to a House of the Vampire Nation. The man picked it up and examined it closely.

"No," Harry agreed, "you would not recognize me, Markus Savage."

Harry's smirk widened when Markus' head shot from examining the medallion and stared at him. The familiar set the medallion back on the table so Harry could collect it.

"I... see." He clearly didn't, but he didn't need to.

"I have these two scrolls," explained Harry as he withdrew the objects from his cloak. "One–" he set the first on the table "–for whoever met with me, explaining all they need to know, and the second–" he set this one down as well "–for the House Elders." Markus eyed the two scrolls. The first was a simple piece of parchment magically sealed with a wax imprint of the House symbol. The second was a metal tube sealed at both ends, covered in runic symbols meant to protect the scroll and ensure delivery.

Markus picked up the scroll meant for him from the table and broke the seal, feeling the magic seek out and recognize the brand all familiars had, before unrolling the scroll and reading the contents, He quickly finished and looked back up at Harry as the scroll burned itself to ash and scattered.

"I will make the necessary arrangements and let the goblins know to accommodate you," Markus told him. "Is there anything you need?"

"An identity," answered Harry after a moment's consideration. "I'll need a solid past if I'm to do anything."

Markus nodded as he rose, picking up the metal tube to take with him.

"Of course. I'll have one of the guards fetch a goblin to do that for you." Markus paused slightly before turning for the door. "The Elders may contact you. May the night favor your endeavors."

As the door shut behind Markus, it was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. He'd never actually med Markus Savage before he died, but from what he understood, Markus was arrogant and impatient. Here he had obviously been very polite in hopes of currying favor with him.

Having been sitting for a while, Harry stood and stretched his legs. He walked around the table, taking out his wand and twirling it in his fingers has he did so. Reaching the chair Markus had been sitting in, he leaned against the table next to it, half sitting on the black marble surface. This wait wasn't as long as the previous, and after only a few minutes the door opened once again, this time admitting a small goblin with pointy hat and beard.

The goblin had in his hands a rectangular wooden palette with a piece of parchment affixed to one side and a self-inking quill. He positioned the pallet in the crook of his left arm and looked at Harry over the top of his spectacles.

"You needed an identity?" inquired the goblin. Harry relied that he did. The goblin nodded and _hmm-_ed. "Name?"

"Atrus Schwarz."

The goblin wrote that down on the parchment.

"Date of birth?"

"Er... the 31st of July, 1955"

The goblin marked that down, as well.

"Family?"

"Both parents died in a magical accident three years ago. No other living relatives."

The goblin made a notation. The process continued for nearly ten minutes: the goblin asked a question and marked down Harry's response before asking another. The questions ranged from what was his schooling to how many times had he seen a wizarding doctor and for what.

Finally the goblin tapped the quill to the parchment (which was obviously enchanted), before he nodded and made a positive sounding grunt.

"Well, Mr. Schwarz," started the goblin, sliding the palette and parchment across the table, "if you'll just tap the parchment with your wand, it will reveal your history compiled from the answers you have provided. It is charmed so you won't forget the details." Harry drew his wand and tapped the blank piece of parchment. Words began writing themselves, not unlike the Marauder's Map. He just glanced over the information as it filled the page, then cleared and filled the page several times. The information wasn't on the parchment long enough for comprehension, but the charm ensured everything was committed to memory. When the parchment cleared for the last time and no new information appeared, the goblin continued. "We have a team of goblins creating the necessary records. Everything should be in place by noon tomorrow.

"Now we have one last order of business: the contents of your personal vault and the Schwarz family vault." The goblin gave Harry a toothy grin. "It's not strictly necessary, but it could lend a certain air of... authenticity." If it were at all possible, the goblin's grin grew even toothier.

"Yes, of course." Harry reached into his cloak, impossibly pulling out a metal chest roughly the size of his head and setting it down on the table. "You, of course, recognize this, right?" The goblin nodded. It was a goblin box-vault typically used for transferring the entire contents of one vault to another, though he'd never seen one so large before. For the chest to be so big, it had to be carrying the contents of a vault rivaling those of the old families. "Well, this one will be the family vault." Harry then pulled out a second box, though this was little bigger than his fist. "And this will be my personal vault."

Seeing the shocked look on the Goblin's face mad Harry pleased with his decision to empty his family and trust vaults before coming on this little jaunt to the past.

The goblin nodded dumbly and snapped his fingers. The doors to the room burst open and two heavily armed goblins rushed into the room. The glass-wearing goblin gave the two orders in Gobbledegook. The guards moved to the table to pick up the two box-vaults and their eyes widened comically as they saw the once containing what had once been the Potter family vault. Getting over their surprise, each guard grabbed a box and left the room. Harry saw several more mean looking guards join up as an escort outside the room as they headed towards the carts.

The goblin produced two three keys from a pocket and held them up for Harry to see.

"Two of these keys are your vault keys. They both have the vault number engraved on the head. The lower numbered vault is the Schwarz family vault, naturally." The goblin handed Harry the two keys. "This third one is the key to your family home. Holding it should help you with an apparition location." It handed over the third key.

The goblin left him with a traditional vampiric farewell and was out the door, leaving Harry alone in the room.

With a grin, Harry Potter – newly dubbed Atrus Schwarz – exited the room and wandered out of Gringotts, making his way to the Apparition point so he could settle into his 'family' home.

* * *

_Last updated: 13th October, 2006_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**Saves Nine**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**July 13, 1997**

"Phile Markus Savage." The voice was powerful. "You stand before the full council of House Dispater. It is an honor rarely received by a lowly phile. Should your reason for requesting audience with us be lacking, your fate shall not be pleasant."

The speaker sat in the shadows on a platform raised several meters from the floor. There were two figures flanking him: one male, one female. Running the length of the two longest walls of the room were two more raised platforms, slightly lower than the first, that formed a sort of canyon that Markus Savage was now standing in. These two platforms were the galleries in which the Archs attended council, and sitting in the highest dais were the three Elders of House Dispater. Markus Savage was nervous, and the dim lighting of the room accompanied with the harsh spotlight shining down from directly above him did nothing to ease the situation.

"Of- of course, High Elder. I would not dare think of requesting an audience without proper reason," Markus managed to stutter. "My request regards the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort?"

Markus shuddered at the name, showing his weakness for all the council to see. The others did not so much as bat an eyelash.

"Yes, High Elder." Markus paused for a moment. "The great majority of Clanless vampires have joined him."

Many of the Archs in the gallery shifted uncomfortably.

"And you believe House Dispater should, as well." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, High Elder." Since Markus stood with his head bowed, he did not notice the woman vampire to the High Elder's right rise from her seat in anger. The High Elder stopped her with a motion from his hand and she reluctantly returned to her seat.

"Why?" It was a simple question, but it made Markus freeze for a moment before responding.

"Joining forces with the Dark Lord will allow us to move openly! We will no longer have to hide in the shadows! No longer will we have to to be cautious in our feeding! We can use the mortals like the cattle they are!"

This was a common sentiment among the younger vampires, those that just did not understand that a vampire's place was in the shadows. The Vampire Nation had seen civilizations rise and fall while they prospered in the shadows, the oldest of cultures were but mere babes next to the rulers of the night.

"Interesting," the High Elder responded.

"And we- we could present a gift to the Dark Lord—so he will be more amenable."

"A gift, you say?" The High Elder was intrigued. What sort of gift could one present the Dark Lord to make him 'more amenable'?

"Harry Potter, High Elder," Markus answered. "He has continued to escape the Dark Lord's grasp time and again. Presenting the Dark Lord with Harry Potter's corpse would make him very agreeable. I just recently learned of his location, and he is protected only by a few simple wards based on his blood."

The silence in the chamber was deafening as the High Elder processed Markus' information.

"Very well–" there were several gasps as the High Elder spoke "–you may collect this Harry Potter. Now go."

Markus gave a deep bow and rushed from the room as fast as politely possible. As soon as the door to the chamber closed, the woman who had been angered by Markus' request turned to the High Elder.

"Why did you allow him his desire, Aeacus?" she inquired. As one of the two lesser Elders, she should have been at the very least consulted for such an important decision as deciding to follow Voldemort. Not only that, but no vampire over a century would think to follow a psychopath of the sort Voldemort was.

"Have you no faith in me, Megaera?" was the High Elder's amused response. When he saw Megaera's look, he continued. "When I first learned of Voldemort's resurrection, I decided to observe his defeater myself. Blood wards are but the least of the boy's protection; I simply chose a less conventional means for Markus Savage's execution."

* * *

**August 5, 1975**

With a soft _pop,_ Harry appeared in the entry hall of a fair sized house. The floors and walls were made of a light Cappuccino beige marble polished to a nice shine. The foyer opened up into a large sitting room with red carpeting recessed a few steps below the level of the entry hall's floor. Walking into the sitting room, Harry noticed the atrium ceiling and the second floor mezzanine running around the room. On the wall directly opposite the foyer was a large fireplace, presumably for the Floo connection, though there was no fire burning. Above the fireplace mantel was a large picture frame, the portrait empty. To his right, Harry spotted a dining room through an open set of doors, and to his left, a wide flight of stairs that moved up to a landing halfway between the first and second floors before splitting into two flights of stairs that ran perpendicular to the first to meet with the mezzanine on either side. On the wall to the left of the fireplace was a door that Harry saw led to a study after poking his head in.

He was about to climb the stairs to explore the second floor when someone interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah, hello there, Atrus, dear." At the warm feminine voice, Harry spun around, drawing his wand and quickly casting a strong shield as he did so. The powerful offensive spell he was prepared to cast died on his lips as he spotted the speaker: the portrait above the fireplace that had been empty was now occupied by a middle-aged witch to whom time had been kind.

"Pardon?" Harry asked as he lowered his wand.

"Right, I suppose the goblins didn't tell you," the woman answered. "I am your mother, Viola Schwarz."

Harry just looked at her funny.

"Well," she continued after seeing his expression, "it's a technique the goblins developed with some help from their vampire patrons. I am an artificially created portrait, meaning the subject of the painting – that is to say, me – never existed in any shape or form, which is necessary for a truly cognizant portrait to be made."

"It's obviously not all that necessary if you were made," Harry interrupted her.

"Too true." She grinned as she said this. "Through the help of the vampire blood magics and their own, the goblins can create intelligent portraits of people that never existed. The subject of the portrait can be given a complete history and personality, the only flaw – if it can be called a flaw – is that even though I remember living, I know that it's an elaborately conceived fiction."

"It sounds to me like a terribly complicated process," Harry noted. "How is it that they managed to create you in such a short time?"

"I was actually created several years ago, but I was left blank. As you were giving the goblins the general details of your life, they were magically creating a history for me and giving me my appearance so it suitably matched yours."

Harry noticed with a shock that the woman's features were quite similar to his.

"I'll bet this really lends credibility to the false identities the goblins create."

"It does indeed. Unfortunately, they are not often required to create such complete identities as yours, so they don't keeps many blanks on hand."

"Right, then. I want to familiarize myself with the house, so I'll be wandering around upstairs. Holler if you need something." Harry seemed to ponder something for a moment before he smirked. "Mum."

With that, he turned and walked to the stairs, intent on exploring the second floor.

* * *

**August 11, 1975**

Harry had been nearly a week in the past settling himself into his new home and waiting to be contacted when a large Crowned Hawk-eagle flying into the breakfast area interrupted his breakfast. The magnificent bird of prey perched itself imperiously on the back of one of the chairs and fixed its sharp eyes on him. It grasped in one of its talons a metal tube much like the one Harry had given Markus Savage the week before.

Harry stood from his seat and moved around the table to the chair the bird had alighted on. The eagle extended its talon holding the tube to Harry as he reached for it, and as soon as Harry took hold of the cylinder, the eagle took to the air and flew out the open window. Quickly finishing his breakfast, Harry left the dishes for the house-elf and made his way to the study with tube in hand.

Harry sat in the chair behind the desk and carefully broke the magic seals on the tube, pulling out a neatly rolled parchment sealed with wax imprinted with the seal of House Dispater. He broke that seal, as well, and unrolled the missive. It was brief.

_Harry Potter,_

_You are requested to present yourself before the Elders of House Dispater on the witching hour. Representatives from other Houses will also be in attendance. An escort shall arrive for Atrus Schwarz at your residence shortly before the appointed time._

_Megaera_

_Elder, House Dispater_

Harry smiled at the the curtness of the letter. Twenty years from now and Elder Megaera would still be the same. Then again, she was well over two thousand years old and twenty-five years would not change much. He was brought out of his musings by the portrait of his mother; she had several frames in the house, one of which was over the fireplace in the study.

"I had been wondering, dear, if you planned on just lazing about the house for the foreseeable future," she asked. Harry set the letter on the desk and ignored it as it burst into flames and burnt to ash.

"No," answered Harry, "I don't think I could take that. I'd go crazy pretty quickly."

"Oh? You sound like you have something in mind."

"The Goldsmith family was attacked last Friday. A Hogwarts professors was a friend of the family and was unlucky enough to be visiting at the time. I've scheduled an interview for the post for this Friday. I have always thought it would be entertaining to see the Marauders in school."

"You're to be a teacher, then? What class will you be teaching if you get the job?"

"Muggle Studies. It's not the most exciting of subjects, but it won't require much work on my part, and it gets me close to Dumbledore, which is really the only reason I'm applying for a position at Hogwarts."

* * *

The minute hand on the clock fell into place at the six o'clock position, producing a chime and noting the time as half an hour to midnight. Several minutes later the wards he had placed on the property informed Harry of a vampire entering the grounds. He stood from where he was seated on the sofa and went to meet his escort at the door. The vampire knocked just as Harry reached the foyer, so he immediately swung the door open.

"Greetings, Atrus Schwarz, I am Phile Rome Ladrinc. It is my duty to escort you to the council hall of House Dispater." The vampire was fairly short with long black hare and aristocratic features. He had also been the Ist to teach Harry all the warding techniques he knew.

Harry placed his right fist over his heart in the traditional vampire salute.

"Greetings, Phile Rome Ladrinc." The wizard grabbed his traveling cloak from where it hung on the wall by the door and fastened it around his shoulders. "Shall we go?"

Harry stepped from the house and closed the door behind him.

"I have a portkey, Master Schwarz, though we will have to move beyond the perimeter of your rather impressive wards." It was all Harry could do not to chuckle as they walked for the edge of the wards.

"Of course, Phile Ladrinc. And I thank you for your compliments on my wards. I spent the better part of the week erecting them. I had a most competent instructor when it came to warding techniques."

"And a vampire, as well," Phile Ladrinc observed. "There are several vampiric blood wards surrounding this property. I am unaware of any House allowing their ward masters to impart their techniques to those outside their house, let alone a mortal." He took a moment to consider something. "Then again, I am also unaware of any mortal being summoned for an audience with Elders of the Vampire Nation."

"And the reason for both are the same," Harry replied. He paused, then continued with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I am no vampire, true, but I am not quite as mortal as most mortals are."

With Harry's last comment they were past the edge of the wards and Ladrinc offered the portkey to Harry. There was a sudden hook behind both their navels and the scenery blurred sickeningly. As the two slammed into the ground and their surroundings resolved themselves, they were no longer standing under the night sky, but in a large stone chamber with vaulted ceilings.

The chamber was empty and silent as the grave. Several blood red tapestries proudly displaying the symbols of House Dispater and the Vampire Nation hung on the walls. The large set of double doors leading to the council chambers in front of Harry were dominated by a large gold relief of the mark of House Dispater. He was drawn from his observations by Ladrinc.

"I will now take my leave. You will wait here until you are called. May the night favor your endeavors." The vampire escort placed his closed fist over his heart.

"And may the Lady Nyx smile upon you," replied Harry as he returned the gesture. With that, Ladrinc exited through the doors opposite the ones leading to the council, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit room. Harry sighed. His experience with older vampires told him he would be waiting in the antechamber until exactly midnight, which was still a good twenty-five minutes away. Knowing that his preferred method of passing the time (twirling his wand in his fingers) could be considered rude, or even hostile, he resigned himself to nearly a half-hour of mind-numbing boredom.

A clock somewhere in the complex announced midnight with a series of resounding gongs and the doors leading to the council chamber swung open silently. The room was black as pitch save for a small pathway of light originating from the center of the two doors. Harry stepped onto the path and walked along it without hesitation. When he reached the end the path behind him vanished, leaving only the small patch of light he was standing in. When Harry had stood there for nearly a minute without being addressed he decided to do something about it.

"Really, High Elder Aeacus, your flair for the dramatic may work on _vampires_ lesser than you, but I am made of sterner stuff than they." There were a few gasps of surprise and outrage to hear anyone speak to a High Elder of the Vampire Nation in such a manner. There was also an amused chuckle which Harry knew was Aeacus' as the lights slowly came up in in the room. The lighting was enough to reveal that the council room was not configured as it normally was; the raised galleries and dais that normally occupied the room were missing, probably sunk into the stonework of the floor. In their place was a single long table at the head of the room, behind which six vampires were seated. The three in the middle Harry immediately recognized as the three Elders of House Dispater. To their left was an Elder each from northern and southern Asia, and to their right sat an Elder from North America.

"Such attitude from a _young_ mortal," spoke Aeacus with great amusement. "You do realize that the only reason you are not dead for it is because this letter his peaked my curiosity." As he said this he waved one hand which held a piece of parchment to illustrate the point.

"Of course," Harry replied simply.

"The letter intimated that you were in possession of an object or objects which could help with any... confusion we may have, but did not specify what it might be," Megaera voiced from her place next to Aeacus.

"If I may?" inquired Harry as he made to reach into the folds of his cloak. Getting an affirmative, he removed a thin package from within. He walked to the table and sat the box down upon it directly before Aeacus. The High Elder opened the lid and his eyes widened.

"Are these...?" Aeacus asked of the blood red crystals fixed securely to the padding in the box.

"They are," Harry affirmed. "You and Elder Megaera wished to come through yourselves, but your powers made such a feat impractical, so you decided upon the next best thing. That box contains a blood stone from every Elder of the Vampire Nation of my time. Each blood stone is imprinted with the twenty-five years of memories your counterparts have experienced that you have not. Not all the Elders expressed interest in coming with me in this sense, though all provided a blood stone so the Elders of this time may make that choice.

High Elder Aeacus eyed the contents of the box for a few more moments before snapping it closed and setting it off to one side.

"Very well, then," the High Elder said. "You are clear with the parameters of your task?"

"Yes," the wizard responded. " I am to hinder Voldemort's campaign in anyway I see fit so long as I do not kill Voldemort before the thirty-first of October, 1981."

"Why is it you must wait to kill him? One would think getting rid of this Voldemort as soon as possible would be best," remarked the Elder from North America.

"The ritual used to bridge our two times is unique in that it creates a branch in the timeline at the point they are connected. Because of that it is virtually impossible to create a paradox," answered Harry. "Unfortunately, Voldemort is a temporally significant figure. Killing him before he died in the original timeline would be one of the few things that could cause a paradox."

"It would seem, Harry Potter, that you have free reign to do what you please to Voldemort's Death Eaters. We will not openly interfere with your task. Should there be any questions after I consume my blood stone, we will summon you again. May the Lady Nyx smile upon you." With Aeacus' parting sentiment, the lights in the room all went out save for a path leading back to the room's exit.

* * *

_Last Updated: 16th October, 2006_

**Notes:** Though the future portion of the story is set during he summer after Harry's sixth year, the events of _Half-Blood Prince_ are disregarded. The "alternate" events of year six have no bearing of the story.

_Familiar_ – A mortal who (willingly) serves vampires. They take care of the vampires' business during daylight, and allow vampires to feed from them. Most familiars are also 'vampire-hopefuls.'

_Phile_ – The first rank in the vampire hierarchy. They are above the masses of unranked vampires, but have little power and little say in the affairs of their House.

_Ist_ – The second rank of the vampire hierarchy. An Ist is slightly more powerful than a Phile and has a talent or is proficient in a skill that benefits their House.

_Arch_ – The highest rank in the vampire hierarchy below the House Elders. They are responsible for the day to day affairs of their House.

_Elder_ – The Elders' words are law for their House. The Elders are very old and very powerful. There are always at least three Elders (two lesser Elders and one High Elder), though some Houses have more.

_High Elder_ – The oldest and most powerful vampire in a House. The High Elder can overturn any decision made by the lesser Elders, though they normally agree on most matters.

_House_ – A House, or Clan, is a body that governs the vampires in their domain. Vampires not belonging to a House (the extreme minority) tend to be weaker and unable to tap the power their vampiric nature gives them. House vampires tend to be more civilized and very rarely kill or turn those they drink from, relying more on willing familiars for blood. There are eight Houses in the Vampire Nation. House Dispater is responsible for the vampires in Europe.


End file.
